Revive This!

Even though no one I know seems particularly excited by the prospect of the 3rd Broadway production of Les Miserables in as many decades, we're got it anyway, and it's selling out.

The splashy, often star-studded revival is something the theatre has a love/hate relationship with.  On the one hand, since theatre is not a fixed medium like film or print, the only way to expose new audiences to classic shows is via revival.  The best revivals help remind people of the brilliance of past hits, while also allowing works that were ahead of their time to receive the appreciation and attention they deserve.  Revivals can also provide a road map for making seemingly dated shows work for contemporary audiences via script and structural tweaks (with the creators' permission, obviously).  And of course, there's the thrill of seeing theatrical greats tackle some of the medium's juiciest roles.

On the flip side, you can argue that every revival produced steals funding and talent from a new work that probably needed it.  And if the show in question is just not very good, a revival can feel like a massive waste of time and resources that could have been used to mount a better show.  Adding to the sometimes barely hidden resentment towards revivals is the fact that the window between productions continues to shrink; this Sunday saw the opening of the 3rd incarnation of Les Miserables to play Broadway in the last decade, and Roundabout is bringing back their Tony-winning Cabaret a mere decade after the exact same production closed at the revamped Studio 54.

In this (hopefully) semi-regular series, I'm going to call attention to the shows I feel are deserving of a revival; if I was a producer, these are the shows I would try to make happen.  What makes a show "deserving" of revival?  While there are no hard and fast rules, generally speaking the show in question needs to be well written.  However, if a show has one strong element and another not so strong element (for instance, a great score with a problematic book), it may still merit the kind of rexamination/retinkering modern revivals seem to have little qualms about doing.  Also, for my tastes there needs to have been a good amount of time since the show's last major New York production (20 years or more, typically), as that seems to be the point when a production can begin to be judged on its own merits and not just mercilessly compared to what came before.

With all that in mind, here are a couple of shows I would love to see revived on the Great White Way sooner rather than later.

Crazy for You

Very rarely can you go wrong with pink ruffles in a musical comedy.

This is the show Nice Work If You Can Get It wanted to be, but wasn't.  A reworking of Gershwin standards into a new story that loosely parallels their 1930 romp Girl Crazy, Crazy for You is one of the best musicals to come out of the artistic wasteland known as the early 90s.  Because they had the entirety of the Gershwin catalogue to draw from, the creators were able to cherry pick the best tunes to create a score that is overflowing with classics like "Someone to Watch Over Me," "They Can't Take That Away from Me," and "Nice Work If You Can Get It."  Even better, all of those amazing songs are folded so seamlessly into the show's central plot about an aspiring dancer trying to save a run down theatre that they feel as if they were all written specifically for the show.  Also, the book is charmingly old school in its comedic sensibilities, with a rapid fire set-up/punchline rhythm that feels both contemporary and timeless even 20 years after its premiere.

This show just makes you feel good, and it is a damned entertaining spectacle with showstopping production number after production number.  There's a fantastic tap routine for the male lead and female chorus early on set to the catchy "I Can't Be Bother Now," a couple beautiful pas de duexs for the male and female leads, and the glorious 8-minute "I've Got Rhythm" that closes Act I puts even the recent Anything Goes revival to shame.  Speaking of Anything Goes, that revival's Tony-winning choreographer Kathleen Marshall would be the perfect person to helm Crazy for You, as her choreography has the whimsical inventiveness needed to make this show sing.  Susan Stroman would also be an excellent choice, but as she won her first Tony Award for choreographing the original I say let's get a new perspective on the whole thing.

Unfortunately, because of its similarities to the ill-advised and underwhelming Nice Work, I think we are at least 5 years removed from any potential Crazy for You revival.  Which is a shame, because I really believe if they had done Crazy for You instead, the show would still be running.


Once on this Island

When Paper Mill Playhouse produced Once on this Island a couple of seasons back, I was really hoping for a Broadway transfer; sadly, that never materialized.

This early Flaherty and Ahrens work (who we'll pretend aren't involved with the underwhelming Rocky) is an absolute delight, and I wish some adventurous producer would take a chance on reviving it.  The show isn't a guaranteed hit, but it also can be done with a smallish cast and minimal set, so the capitalization and running costs would be relatively low.  The plot, about a peasant girl who saves the life of a rich noble and falls in love with him, has the same timeless quality of Romeo & Juliet (even if Island's ending is decidedly more bonkers).  The show is family friendly - it uses a framing device in which the plot is literally being told to a young girl to calm her down during a storm - with just enough sophistication and racial/class undertones to hold adults' attention.

At the end of the day, it's the gem of a score that makes this show worth revisiting.  There are beautiful ballads and rousing uptempos, plus some inventive storytelling and musical scenes.  The music is also just begging to be tackled by powerhouse singers who can belt it to the rafters, and the ensemble nature of the piece means lots of performers would get their chance to shine.  In fact, the biggest knock I can make against the show is that it's a bit too predictable in its structure (every named character, without fail, is given a solo), but with a lean 90 minute runtime that is in no way detrimental to its overall effectiveness.  I would love to see someone like the Roundabout Theatre Company revive this for a limited run (with the option to extend), although it doesn't quite fit into that non-profit's established brand.

Bonus casting idea: Patina Miller as Asaka, Mother of the Earth.  Just imagine how fierce the Tony winner would sound singing "Mama Will Provide."


I have plenty of other ideas; if you have any, feel free to share them in the comments!

Disney Works Its Magic Again

Review:  Aladdin

Rumor has it that there is one sequin in the Genie's costume for every million dollars Disney expects to make off this show.

After adapting Beauty and the Beast, The Little Mermaid, and The Lion King into stage musicals with varying degrees of success, Disney has finally gotten around to giving Aladdin, the sole unadapted film of it's early 90s renaissance, the Broadway treatment.  And in a feat of theatrical magic, this new musical comedy manages to strike the perfect balance between honoring its source material and reinventing it for the stage.  Moreso than any previous Disney musical, Aladdin's additions to the source material feel organic and necessary rather than tacked on and superfluous, meshing seamlessly with everything that made the film an instant classic.  The slick, sparkling production currently wowing audiences at the New Amsterdam Theatre is guaranteed to make you feel like a kid again, with the kind of eye-popping production values only Disney-level money can buy.

For those who have somehow avoided the Oscar-winning film these past twenty years, Aladdin tells the story of the titular "street rat" who steals to survive while dreaming of something more.  A chance encounter with the strong-willed Princess Jasmine leaves Aladdin head over heels in love with her, but the law of the land states that only a prince may marry the princess.  When Aladdin comes into possession of a magic lamp, the wisecracking Genie who lives inside promises to grant him three wishes, giving Aladdin everything he needs to make his dreams come true, provided he can keep the lamp out of the evil Jafar's power hungry hands.

The musical adheres closely to the film's structure, while also incorporating material that was cut during its development.  Aladdin is now accompanied by three fellow thieves named Babkak, Omar, and Kassim, who serve as both sidekicks and foils for our hero while providing plenty of comic relief.  (Unfotunately, Aladdin's simian sidekick Abu hasn't made the transition from screen to stage, although he is cleverly referenced during one of the show's many production numbers.)  The stage show also attempts to beef up Jasmine's character with a few extra songs and some token dialogue about strong, independent women, although this material doesn't add any layers to the character that weren't already present in the film.  All of the changes and additions to the narrative are well-realized and cleverly integrated in Chad Beguelin's well-written if workmanlike book, which also faithfully recreates all of the film's most iconic moments.

The movie's songs by Alan Menken and the late Howard Ashman are all present, often in expanded arrangements that sound fantastic.  "Arabian Nights" has been transformed into a magnificent choral number that sends chills down the spine, while "Friend Like Me" and "Prince Ali" have been given swinging jazz makeovers.  The show also includes the beautiful ballad "Proud of Your Boy," originally written for the film but cut from the finished feature, which acts as a constant touchstone for the character of Aladdin during its many reprises.  There's also a rollicking production number called "Babkak, Omar, Aladdin, Kassim" and thrilling swashbuckling tune called "High Adventure."  All of the new music by composer Alan Menken (with additional lyrics by bookwriter Beguelin) meshes perfectly with the pre-existing tunes, even if none of them quite reaches the heights of the film's original seven.

While the material for the show is strong, the direction and production values are stronger, and they are what truly propel Aladdin into must-see territory.  Director/choreography Casey Nicholaw helms the production with an unbridled joy for the material that is positively infectious, with choreography and staging to match.  As he proved with his work on The Book of Mormon, Nicholaw knows his way around a production number, and his continually slick choreography builds each dance to an ecstatic crescendo.  His playful work on the aforementioned "Babkak, Omar, Aladdin, Kassim" turns a number obviously created as filler into an early highlight, and Act II opener "Prince Ali" is equally sumptuous.  But the crowning jewel of this production is Nicholaw's elaborately staged "Friend Like Me," a legitimate showstopper with a dazzling array of inventive dancing, magic tricks, sight gags, and even fireworks (that's right, fireworks).   The thunderous applause that greeted this number on the night I saw the show was wholly earned, and it simply must be seen to be believed.

Of course, Nicholaw isn't working in a vacuum, and the resplendent production design goes a long way towards making Aladdin such a beauty to behold.  Gregg Barnes' costumes contain an entire season's worth of beading and sequins, and his saturated color pallet perfectly encapsulates the show's exotic locale.  Barnes' work is so strong that Nicholaw is able to structure "Prince Ali" around a literal parade of costumes, and the multiple costume reveals throughout the show are a joy to behold.  Set designer Bob Crowley takes something of a back seat to Barnes, but his work is equally impressive, especially in conjunction with Natasha Katz's lighting design.  The particular combination of lighting and set design during "A Whole New World's" iconic magic carpet ride is stunning in its simplicity and beauty.  All told, the production design of Aladdin is the most outright gorgeous of any musical of the past five years.

Performance-wise the show is more of a mixed bag, with the slickness of the production and the acting sometimes hindering the expression of genuine emotion.  Adam Jacobs makes for a dashingly handsome Aladdin, with a golden voice that sounds particularly lovely on "Proud of Your Boy."  He has the character's roguish charm down pat, but unfortunately he isn't given a lot to work with by the beautiful but sometimes wooden Courtney Reed as Princess Jasmine.  Their chemistry is decidedly lopsided in Jacobs' favor, although they sell the Oscar-winning duet "A Whole New World" with aplomb.

The supporting characters are another story entirely, bringing down the house thanks to the artistic freedom of not having to carry an entire show.  James Monroe Iglehart's riotous performance as the scene stealing Genie provides the evening's biggest belly laughs, and his high energy charisma gives the enormous production numbers a much-needed jumping off point.  Jonathan Freeman, the original voice of Jafar from the film, recreates the villain for the stage with the kind of gleefully bad behavior and shameless scenery chewing that is the hallmark of a good Disney villain.  Freeman is ably matched by his cohort in crime, Don Darryl Rivera's hilarious Iago (who is no longer a parrot, but still Jafar's abrasive sidekick), and the duo's comic timing is impeccable.  It's a shame the pair doesn't have more stage time, but they make what they have count.

Few shows arrive on Broadway with such lofty expectations as Aladdin, and thankfully the production delivers on almost all fronts.  Alan Menken's Oscar-winning score sounds more glorious than ever, and Chad Beguine's book recreates all of the iconic moments from the film while seamlessly adding a plethora of new material.  Expertly staged by the preternaturally gifted Casey Nicholaw, the game cast turns out showstopper after showstopper, although occasionally the show's heart gets lost in the shuffle.  Furthermore, the show is unabashedly, breathtakingly gorgeous in a way few shows are allowed to be anymore, making it a feast for the eyes and ears.  Aladdin is a surefire blockbuster, and will make even the most jaded of theatregoers feel like a kid again, if only for a few fleeting hours.

Glorious Music, Sung Gloriously

Review: The Bridges of Madison County

If Kelli O'Hara doesn't win the Tony for her work in Bridges, there is no justice in the world.

They simply don't make them like this anymore.  The Bridges of Madison County, the musical adaptation of the bestselling book currently playing the Gerald Schoenfeld Theatre, is the type of sweeping musical drama that has fallen out of favor in recent years.  Unabashedly earnest in its sentiment, the exquisitely scored Bridges features two central performances so transcendent they more than compensate for the musical's occasional listlessness via the sheer intensity of their star wattage.

The musical focuses on a brief but intense affair between Italian-American housewife Francesca (a positively radiant Kelli O'Hara) and National Geographic photographer Robert Kincaid (the smoldering Steven Pasquale, in his Broadway musical debut).  A war bride brought back to Madison County, Iowa by blue collar farmer Bud (Hunter Foster), Francesca has spent two decades being the dutiful wife and mother, so complacent in her role that she doesn't even realize how unfulfilled she feels.  When Robert innocently asks Francesca for directions to one of the titular covered bridges, a simple invitation to tea blossoms into a passionate, all-consuming love that forces Francesca to re-examine every choice she's ever made.

The material could easily descend in schmaltzy sentimentality, but never does thanks to the incredible contributions of composer Jason Robert Brown.  Brown rocketed to fame on the strength of his Broadway debut Parade, and his small but sterling body of work since then has only reconfirmed his early promise as one of the theatre's finest tunesmiths.  Brown's work on Bridges is that of a fully matured artist, able to write music that is irrefutably gorgeous in its own right while also perfectly servicing plot and character development.  He possesses a rare, precise understanding of the full potential of the human voice, and continually shows his knack for writing conversational yet deeply profound lyrics. Bridges finds Brown equally adept at writing lilting, mournfully introspective songs like "Another Life" (a knockout solo for, of all characters, Robert's ex-wife) and soaring, operatic duets like "One Second and a Million Miles" (the musical highlight of the evening, and possibly the entire Broadway season).  It is a staggering achievement, the kind of richly complex score that only comes around once every few years.

The fact that Marsha Norman's libretto for Bridges doesn't reach the dizzying heights of Brown's score is disappointing, although likely unavoidable given the virtuosic intensity of the songs.  Norman tries to expand the scope of the story beyond the central lovers, inserting subplots about Francesca's family traveling to the Iowa State Fair and a prying but ultimately supportive neighbor.  While interesting in theory, these subplots have a nebulous connection to the main story and aren't developed enough to be engaging in their own right.  Norman does an excellent job of establishing Francesca's disconnection from her family, to the point where the show doesn't give her a valid reason for not immediately running off with Robert (the show's primary source of dramatic conflict).  The script also hints at deeply rooted problems between Bud and his kids but fails to truly explore them, with the eventual resolution of these problems feeling forced and unsatisfactory.

Thankfully, the cast more than makes up for the script's shortcomings.  As Francesca, four-time Tony-nominee Kelli O'Hara is a revelation, giving the most nuanced performance of her illustrious career.  Through the subtlest glance or bit of stage business, O'Hara illuminates the myriad conflicting feelings going on inside Francesca, a free spirit who willingly entered into a mundane marriage and is finally confronting the consequences.  O'Hara makes Francesca's inner life readily apparent, creating a wholly sympathetic creature from a woman who in lesser hands would be easy to judge harshly.  And when she opens her mouth to sing, O'Hara reveals a vocal mastery on par with the greatest singers to ever grace the Broadway stage.  Her crystalline soprano has never been stronger, rich and soulful as it traverses the soaring heights and unexpected depths of Brown's score.  The fact that O'Hara has yet to be rewarded with Broadway's highest honor seems somewhat ludicrous given the unending reservoir of talent on display here, and hopefully this will finally be her year when the Tony Awards are handed out in June.

Surprisingly, Steven Pasquale proves every bit her equal, and watching his masterful portrayal of the lone wolf photographer makes one regret he hasn't had the opportunity to star in a Broadway musical before now.  Pasquale imbues Robert with a quiet charisma and smoldering sensuality that is intoxicating, easily explaining why Francesca would be drawn to him.  As O'Hara does with Francesca, Pasquale gives such a clear view into Robert's inner life that you instantly understand every choice he makes.  A beautiful sincerity permeates his entire performance, preventing the character from coming across as a predatory lout.  And when Pasquale unleashes his powerful baritone, the sheer force and beauty of it sends shivers down the spine.

Director Bartlett Sher stages the show with his typical precision, coaxing uniformly fantastic performances out of his cast.  As with his previous shows, Sher is occasionally seduced by the beauty of his material, letting certain moments last one beat too long.  The final fifteen minutes of the show drag (although this partly stems from the writing), and the constant scenery changes eat up too much of the evening's running time.  But credit must be given where credit is due; performances of the caliber O'Hara and Pasquale give don't just happen, and without Sher to help guide and mold them the two actors wouldn't be nearly as effective in their roles.

The fact that a maudlin novel like The Bridges of Madison County has been turned into such a powerful piece of art is a minor miracle, and despite some small missteps it makes for a worthwhile night in the theatre.  Kelli O'Hara proves once again that she is among the best singing actresses of all time, giving the kind of deeply felt, nuanced performance that theatrical legends are made of.  Steven Pasquale matches her note for note, and together they have a fiery chemistry that makes Jason Robert Brown's sterling compositions truly soar.  In an age of revivals and disposable works of escapist entertainment, it is truly refreshing to see and hear such a serious new musical on Broadway.

He Could Have Been a Contender

Review: Rocky

Let's try not to think about how disgusting and bloody Rocky's face must be right now.

The main message of Rocky the Film is that simply seeing something through to completion, despite whatever obstacles you may face, is its own form of winning.  And in that sense, everyone involved with Rocky the Musical should consider themselves huge winners, since the project has been met with huge amounts of skepticism since it was first announced.  Unfortunately, this interesting mess of a stage show fails to really go the distance, and was probably better off remaining an Oscar-winning film.

Rocky follows the titular down and out fighter from Philadelphia as he trains to take on undefeated heavyweight champion Apollo Creed in the "fight of the century."  Or at least, that's the plot of the second act; the first is almost entirely focused on the budding romance between Rocky and unassuming shop girl Adrian, and that narrative disassociation proves to be one of the show's biggest flaws.  Bookwriters Thomas Meehan and Sylvester Stallone (who also wrote and starred in the film version) can't seem to decide if the show's focus should be on the love story or the underdog sports story, and rather than interweaving the two plots they've awkwardly segregated them, to the detriment of both. 

The first act has some beautiful, nuanced scenes between Rocky and Adrian that really take the time to believably develop their relationship, only to have the pair suddenly jump to being a committed, happy couple in the second act so the show can focus on Rocky's preparation for the big fight.  The transition is jarring, and the lack of boxing elements in the first act means the second is starting from square one in terms of stakes and audience engagement.  Anyone who was interested in Rocky and Adrian's evolving relationship has to subside on what they were shown in the first half, because it's barely even mentioned in Act II.

Meehan and Stallone also don't seem to know what to do with the various supporting characters, who are either underdeveloped, serve no real narrative purpose, or both.  Adrian's brother Paulie is introduced as a nice guy who initially brings Rocky and Adrian together, only to suddenly morph into an insufferable alcoholic who all the characters despise but tolerate for unknown reasons.  The show goes to great lengths to establish the resentment Rocky harbors against unsupportive gym owner Mickey, but immediately after a particularly intense confrontation Rocky takes him on as a coach, despite have told him mere seconds before to get lost.  The book does little to illustrate what motivates such massive shifts in attitude, and most of it feels like manufactured conflict because the show's real antagonist, Apollo Creed, barely interacts with anyone until the final fight.

Meanwhile, the score by Stephen Flaherty and Lynn Ahrens can at best be called unmemorable, and in all honesty probably merits harsher adjectives.  This is particularly disappointing as Flaherty and Ahrens among the greatest songwriting duos in the history of the musical theatre, easily the equal of Kander and Ebb or Rodgers and Hammerstein, and together they have written some of the greatest scores of the past 30 years.  Rocky is nowhere near their previous highs, barring the exception of the gorgeous Act I ballad "Raining" which serves as our first real introduction to Adrian.  The songs feel disconnected from the story; they work on their own as bits of musical storytelling, but are awkwardly inserted into book scenes that do nothing to set them up or build on what they establish.  They are also almost entirely forgettable, and are completely upstaged by the inclusion of "Eye of the Tiger" two thirds of the way through (a song which is technically from Rocky III, but who's keeping track?).

The performances in Rocky are generally solid, although it is often uncomfortable to watch the actors struggle through such questionable material.  Andy Karl makes for a fine Rocky, tipping his hat to Sylvester Stallone's performance and mannerisms while still maintaining an air of authenticity.  Karl also has excellent chemistry with the Adrian of Broadway newcomer Margo Seibert, whose beautiful alto has the privilege of singing the score's best songs.  Together Karl and Seibert create the evening's most fully realized characters, and it's a shame the second act shifts focus away from their interactions.  Danny Mastrogiorgio sells every scene he's in as Paulie, even if the writing does little to provide a cohesive throughline for his actions.  The only weak link in the cast is Terence Archie's Apollo Creed, who looks the part but comes across as a borderline offensive caricature of African-American stereotypes (a problem made all the more shocking when one considers that Flaherty and Ahrens are responsible for Ragtime, one of the greatest gifts ever given to singing actors of color).

The staging by rising director Alex Timbers (which is intrinsically tied to Christopher Barreca's Rubik's cube of a set) is a mixed bag, simultaneously impressive and underwhelming.  The smaller, character focused first act is overwhelmed by the massive, constantly moving set, while the larger, more spectacle-oriented second half isn't visually interesting enough to overcome the weakness of the storytelling.  Rocky feels like a small-scale show that has been unsuccessfully blown up in order to fill the massive Winter Garden Theatre, and while watching Barreca's set reconfigure itself into various settings is impressive it is not emotionally involving.  The one genuinely thrilling sequence is the fourth wall-breaking final fight, which moves the action out into the audience and is unlike anything seen on a Broadway stage.  This electrifying set piece goes a long way towards making you forget about the shortcomings of the previous two hours, and if one thing can be said about Rocky, it's that the show ends on its highest note.

Overall, Rocky is a noble but misguided effort that doesn't really have a discernible target audience.  The book and score aren't sophisticated enough for high minded audiences, nor are they entertaining enough for those who just want to have a good time.  The size and spectacle of the physical production overwhelms the intimate love story the writers are trying to tell, without being impressive enough to hold our attention on its own.  Rocky was never a property that begged for musicalization, and the unwieldy show that has resulted confirms it would have been better served by remaining an iconic film.  The show isn't quite awful enough to be a career killer for anyone involved (all of whom are established talents to begin with), but it also won't be high on the list of their greatest achievements.  Like Rocky himself, let's give everyone involved credit for trying and move on with our lives.